Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYA5MARPGWD5Z1YBA1GQ2RW

Aurora gripped the silver chain around her neck, the Heartstone Pendant throbbing like a second pulse against her skin. Heat bloomed from the crimson gem, sharper than before, as the air ahead rippled. The Veil hung there, a smear of distortion catching the moonlight in Richmond Park's shadows. Nyx melted into the gloom beside her, their silhouette elongating, edges fraying like smoke. Isolde stood a step back, silver hair swaying without a breeze, her pale lavender eyes fixed on the shimmer. "This tear leads where hunger reigns," Isolde murmured, her voice threading through the night like silk over thorns. "Step through, and taste the feast of forgotten gluttons." Aurora swallowed the knot in her throat. The park's familiar crunch of leaves underfoot faded as she pushed forward. Nyx flowed after, a chill draft in their wake. Isolde glided last, leaving the grass untouched. The world flipped. Cool night air turned thick, laced with scents of overripe fruit and roasting meats. Aurora stumbled onto soft earth, knees sinking into loamy soil that clung like wet velvet. She straightened, blinking against a sky that burned amber, low and heavy, as if the sun had curdled into honey overhead. Nyx solidified beside her, their violet eyes flickering like distant stars. "Smells like excess piled on excess. Feel that pull in your gut?" Aurora nodded, pressing a hand to her stomach. A low hum vibrated through her bones, not sound but sensation, urging her to consume, to fill the emptiness she hadn't noticed until now. Vines draped from unseen heights, heavy with clusters of grapes that swelled purple-black, skins stretched taut. She reached out, fingers brushing one. Juice burst free, sticky and warm, staining her skin with a sweetness that coated her tongue from the mere whiff. Isolde tilted her head, inhaling deeply. "The vines whisper of vines that drank the blood of stars. Harvest them, and they harvest you in turn." They moved deeper, feet padding over moss that pulsed faintly underfoot, each step sending ripples outward like breaths from a living chest. Distant laughter echoed, not human but layered, overlapping in a chorus that twisted joy into something sharper. Aurora's scar on her wrist itched, the old crescent mark from her childhood fall flaring as if the air itself scratched at it. "Look there." Nyx pointed, their arm a fluid extension of shadow merging with the twilight. A pavilion rose ahead, columns carved from bone-white stone veined with gold. Tables groaned under platters: towers of pastries flaky with unseen spices, fruits carved into sculptures that wept nectar, meats glistening in pools of sauce that simmered without fire. Figures moved among them—translucent at first glance, but solidifying into people as they approached. No, not people. Their eyes gleamed too wide, skins stretched over frames that devoured without pause. One soul, a burly man with a chef's apron smeared in crimson, shoveled bites into his mouth, fork scraping plate after plate. He paused, locking eyes with Aurora. "Fresh meat? Come, join the endless course. Prince Belphegor's vintage waits—no bill, just your endless appetite." Aurora's mouth watered despite herself. She licked her lips, tasting salt from the park's lingering dew. "We're not here to eat. Just passing through." The chef laughed, a wet rumble. "Passing? Nothing passes in Dymas. It sticks. Like the sauce on your fingers." He waved a dripping hand, and the air thickened, carrying the sizzle of unseen grills. Nyx slipped closer to Aurora, their form brushing her side in a cool void. "These helbound ones—they're contracted cooks, souls bartered for skill. Feel how the ground drinks their spills? It's feeding on them." Isolde wandered to a nearby orchard, silver hair catching glints from bioluminescent fruits hanging like lanterns. She plucked one, a pear-shaped thing with skin like hammered opal, and bit in. Juice dribbled down her chin, iridescent. "The trees bear burdens of mortal wants. One bite reveals the sin that rooted it." Aurora watched her, unease crawling up her spine. The half-fae's compulsion kept her from lies, but her words twisted like roots. What vision hid behind that calm bite? She turned away, spotting a path winding between hedgerows heavy with blossoms that exhaled perfume in sighs. Petals unfurled as they passed, releasing motes of light that danced like fireflies drunk on wine. Deeper in, the hum grew insistent, syncing with her heartbeat. Aurora's delivery boots, scuffed from London streets, sank deeper into the soil, which now bubbled softly, exuding a mist that tasted of caramel on her tongue. "This place... it's alive. Not like the grove. The Fae spot felt hidden, contained. Here, it's pulling at everything." Nyx's whisper cut the mist. "Because it's Hel's gut. Gluttony doesn't hide; it bloats." They phased partially incorporeal, scouting ahead, then reformed with a shiver. "Gardens give way to arenas up there. Culinary battles—chefs dueling with flames and flavors. Losers feed the vines." Aurora's hand drifted to the Fae-Forged Blade at her belt, its moonsilver hilt cold, a stark contrast to the warmth seeping everywhere else. Isolde had gifted it back in the grove, after her riddles unveiled the pendant's secret pull to this realm. The blade hummed faintly now, luminescent edges catching the amber light. "Stay sharp. If demons prowl these feasts, this might cut through their tricks." Isolde wiped her chin, eyes gleaming with reflected glows. "Blades carve paths, but paths carve the blade. What demon fears a leaf's edge when the fruit tempts with eternity?" They pressed on, the path widening into a courtyard where fountains bubbled not with water but with bubbling broths, aromatic and thick. Steam rose in spirals, forming shapes—faces pleading, hands reaching—before dissolving into savory clouds. A woman lounged by one edge, her form ethereal yet plump, dipping a goblet into the flow. She raised it to them, lips curving. "Thirst's the first sin here. Drink, wanderers, and forget the barren worlds beyond." Aurora shook her head, but her throat burned dry. The pendant pulsed hotter, guiding them toward a grand archway beyond, carved with reliefs of banquets where guests morphed into platters themselves. Unease knotted her gut; this wonder bordered on horror, indulgence masking chains. Nyx hovered near the fountain, their shadow form rippling as if tasting the steam. "She's a glutton spirit, bound to serve. But listen—the water murmurs contracts. Souls who signed away years for one perfect meal." "Contracts like the ones that dragged Evan under?" Aurora's voice sharpened, memories of her ex's descent flashing—his rants about deals in the dark. Isolde stepped to the archway, her bare feet silent on the warming stone. "Doors open to those who hunger for more than bread. Beyond, the prince's hall awaits, where excess crowns the empty." They crossed under the arch, the air shifting to a roar of voices and clatter of silverware. A vast hall unfolded, walls draped in tapestries woven from silk threads that shifted scenes: harvest moons bleeding into wine rivers, tables collapsing under mountains of delicacies. Helbound souls bustled, some in aprons, others as guests, all caught in loops of feast and refill. One cluster cheered around a central pit where flames licked at a spit-roasted beast, its hide crackling, scents of spice and char flooding the space. Aurora's stomach growled, betraying her. She clenched her fists, nails biting palms. "We can't linger. The pendant's leading us somewhere specific—feel it tug?" Nyx nodded, eyes scanning the crowd. "Toward the back, past the wine cellars. But these shades... they watch without watching. Slipping between solid and not keeps me hidden, but you two glow like fresh loaves." Isolde wove through the throng, her presence parting them like mist, no one quite meeting her gaze. "The watchers seek the unwary palate. Yours tastes of mortal fire—untasted, yet." A server approached, tray balanced with goblets foaming at the brim. His eyes, milky with overindulgence, fixed on Aurora. "A sip for the road? Belphegor's brew erases the step before." She sidestepped, the Fae blade's chill grounding her. The pendant flared, warmth spiking as they neared a shadowed alcove. Inside, shelves groaned with bottles, labels curling like tongues, liquids within swirling in impossible colors—emerald tears, ruby storms. Discovery hit like a stolen breath. Aurora traced a bottle's neck, frost blooming under her touch despite the heat. "These aren't just wines. Nyx, look—the corks pulse like hearts." Nyx leaned in, incorporeal fingers phasing through glass without shattering it. "Souls distilled. Gluttons who ate their way to essence. One uncork, and it pours out memories of feasts that never end." Unease deepened as a low groan echoed from the depths, the ground trembling faintly. Wonder mixed in; the hall's chaos held beauty in its excess—the way light fractured through crystal decanters, painting floors in rainbows of temptation. But the pull of it all clawed at Aurora's resolve, whispering of relief in surrender. Isolde paused at a pedestal, where a single fruit rested, larger than her head, skin veined with gold. "This one ripened on regrets. Bite, and see the prince's shadow." Aurora pulled her back just as the hall's din swelled, a new wave of laughter crashing like waves on overfull plates. They moved on, the pendant's heat a compass through the indulgence, deeper into Dymas' heart, where the air grew sweeter, heavier, alive with unspoken hungers.